The Lies We'll Tell
by luvforsawyer
Summary: How Collins contracted AIDS [PreRENT] [MaureenCollins friendship] [implied MarkMaureen, RogerApril] DISCLAIMER: All belongs to Jonathan Larson.


_Crash!_

Maureen jumped. "Shit! What the hell was that?"

"Sorry!" Collins called from the kitchen.

"What d'you do?"

"Dropped a gl—fuck!"

Maureen went to the kitchen. "What? What hap—shit! Collins, you're bleeding!"

The philosopher looked up from his bloody hand. "Thanks, Mo. I hadn't noticed."

"Here, let me help—"

Collins waved her off. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't worry 'bout it."

He used his good hand to turn on the tap and shoved his hand under the water. He winced and washed the blood away. "See? Ain't even that deep."

"Just be careful then."

"Yes, Momma."

Maureen stuck her tongue out at him.

"Just go finish wrapping the Christmas presents. I'm just gonna grab a Band-Aid and then I'll clean up the glass."

Maureen nodded and went back to the small pile of half-wrapped Christmas presents.

Collins tried the knob on the bathroom. It was locked. "Roger? April?"

"Roger left like an hour ago!" Maureen called.

"April? April, open the door. I need a Band-Aid!"

There was no answer. Maureen stood up. "Bust it down."

"You out of your mind?"

"No, I'm serious. I have a really bad feeling about this, Collins. Just…please, just knock the damn door down."

Collins hesitated, but rammed his shoulder, splintering the shabby door. He shouted and ran in. Maureen followed him, bounding across the loft. Collins knelt over April's lifeless body in the bathtub, blood poured around her. He felt along her neck for a pulse. Nothing. He grabbed her wrist, feeling there too.

Maureen stood in the doorway of the bathroom. "Is…is she…"

Collins nodded, tears in his eyes. Maureen looked away. Her eyes fell to the counter. A yellow slip of paper caught her eye. She picked it up.

_Roger,_

_I'm so sorry. Baby, we got AIDS._

_April_

She shook her head. "No, no, no. Collins, no! Don't touch her! Don't touch her!"

Collins jumped up and went to Maureen. She shoved the note at him, trying not to touch him. "She had…I'm calling the police."

**--line break--line break--**

Two weeks later, Maureen went with Collins to get his results.

"Mr. Collins, your test results have come back positive."

Collins looked like the doctor had slapped him. Tears sprang to his eyes. Maureen held her breath, blinking back her own tears.

"Ms. Johnson, I suggest that you—"

"We've never been intimate," she said.

The doctor nodded. "You live together though, correct?"

"Yeah."

"It would be best if everyone in the living situation be tested, just to make sure."

Maureen nodded. Collins sat in shock as Maureen listened to the doctor's instructions on what prescriptions he needed, what to watch for, precautions to take. She accepted the pamphlets and books he offered as well as the name and phone number of a councilor in the area who was starting a support group. The doctor insisted that Collins tell any and all former sexual partners so they could get tested. Collins agreed, though it seemed pointless. He knew the exact minute he'd contracted the virus. It was the same instant April died.

Collins didn't say anything on the walk out of the clinic. Roger's results had come back positive two days ago.

"We're not telling them what happened," he said.

"What?"

Collins strolled into the park, letting Maureen follow behind. He sat down at a bench. "I don't want to tell them what happened."

"Collins they have to know that you…I mean, and Roger is…"

"I'll tell them I got it from an ex-boyfriend. I want you to swear to me that nobody, not even Mark, will ever know how I really got it."

"Why? What difference does it make?"

"For starters, there's Roger. He'll blame himself. Already blames himself that she killed herself. You know as well as I do that he'd start in with the whole he-shoulda-found-her bullshit. Mark will do the exact same thing. Benny too. Only difference between Mark and Benny is Mark will probably manage to blame himself for buying bottles of beer instead of cans," he said with a light chuckle.

"I shouldn't have told you to go in," she whispered.

"No, Maureen. Don't do that. Don't. I just told you I don't want the boys blaming themselves. Now don't you go blamin' yourself. This just happened, all right? Shit just happens."

"Collins, this isn't just 'shit happens'—this is way more serious than that."

"What d'you want me to do? You want me to cry? You want me to scream and rant and rave about how I'm gonna die because my best friend brought home a drug-addicted slut?"

Maureen shook her head. "I'm sorry, okay? I just…I don't know how you can be all calm about this."

Collins put a hand under her chin, tilting her head up to face him. "Baby, listen to me. Ain't nothin' to be sorry for, okay? I just need to know that you'll still be here for me. And that you won't say a word to the others."

Maureen blinked back her tears and managed a smile. "I promise. Not a word. And you know that I'll be there and I love you."

"I love you too, baby girl."

She saw the tears in his eyes and pulled him into a hug. They sat on the bench and held each other until they'd shed every tear.


End file.
